


autumn leaves

by pearlilly



Series: seasons [1]
Category: Dynasty (TV 2017)
Genre: F/F, Pointless fluff, in which fallon is soft and useless, pumpkin patch, this entire thing is sarah’s fault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 15:11:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20909696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearlilly/pseuds/pearlilly
Summary: in which Fallon’s always hated fall until she doesn’t.





	autumn leaves

October came, only marginally less hot than Atlanta usually was, but with a golden glow in the air that made everything seem more magical. Leaves were beginning to brighten; the orchard behind the manor would soon be rippling waves of russet and ochre. Shards of broken acorns littered the marble steps of the back veranda. Nights were crisp with the promise of colder weather soon to come.

Fallon hated every second of it. 

Autumn had never really been her thing. As beautiful as the changing leaves were, they littered the manicured lawns, crunchy and brown, leaving yellow spots in the grass when they weren’t raked away quickly enough. The damned squirrels chattered at her every time she stepped onto the veranda to have her morning coffee, as if she were invading _ their _ space. The indecisive weather meant she’d go to work in a blazer in the morning and be sweating in her very unprofessional tank top by afternoon. But that wasn’t the worst of it. 

Sam was busy finding himself in Argentina. Liam was in New York. Michael had gone out to Tybee for a long weekend. Blake was so busy with his latest business venture and kissing Cristal’s ass that he couldn’t be bothered to oversee the day-to-day operations, or even to delegate them as he usually did. And with Steven gone, Anders had had some kind of epiphany and taken nearly all of his built-up vacation days at once to go be with him. Kirby hadn’t said as much, but Fallon knew that it bothered her - she’d been sticking close by her side since the moment he’d left. 

With so much of the family on sabbatical, the running of the household had fallen to Fallon. While she could plan a hell of a launch party and scare the pants off of any intern she laid her eyes on, homemaking had never really interested her. But the staff needed something to do, and planning the annual Halloween dinner party seemed to be the only thing she could think of to keep their schedules at least somewhat on track. Today, she needed to go meet with the party planner to select tablecloths, a particularly mind numbing task that she had never enjoyed. She was scowling at the thought as she shooed away the squirrels to sip her coffee, already uncomfortably hot under the morning sun. 

“Morning.”

She heard Kirby’s greeting, but didn’t bother to turn around. She knew the redhead would be at her side in a moment. 

“Morning,” she replied, trying to keep a sigh out of her voice. 

Kirby all but materialized beside her. Fallon turned to look at her, unable to stifle a grin when she saw her outfit - dark jeans and a ridiculous bright orange sweatshirt emblazoned with a carved face, making her entire torso look like a jack o’lantern. The effect against her fiery hair almost made Fallon’s eyes water. 

“You’re certainly festive today.”

“It’s nearly Halloween,” Kirby said indignantly. _“You_ aren’t festive enough.”

Fallon snorted. “I’ll be festive when I _ feel _ like being festive. You, on the other hand, are going to collapse from heat stroke if you wear _ that _ all day.”

“Australian,” Kirby replied, as if that somehow negated everything Fallon had just said. “Besides, it isn’t that hot yet.”

“Mmm.” Fallon sipped her coffee and brushed a few acorn shells off the railing, unwilling to engage. 

“What are we doing today?”

Fallon raised her eyebrows. _ “‘We’?” _

“Do you really expect me to sit around here all day by myself? Let me come to the office with you. I’ll get your coffee or make copies or something.”

“Not in that, you won’t. And I’m not going to the office, I have to do some things for the dinner party.”

“All the more reason for me to come with you!” Kirby said brightly. “I’ll help.”

“Not today, Kirby. I’m meeting with the party planner to pick out tablecloths, I don’t think I need your assistance to choose between eggshell and ecru." 

Kirby wrinkled her nose. “Aren’t those both just shades of white?”

“_That _ just proves what little help you’ll be. If you really get bored, you can help Martha and Rebecca decorate the foyer. That’s typically the woman of the house’s job, but I…” She sipped her coffee, briefly considering making up an excuse before deciding to just tell the truth. “I’m not tall enough to hang most of the decorations and I don’t want to, anyway.”

Kirby looked deflated enough that Fallon almost felt bad, but the redhead had been so clingy lately that she couldn’t bring herself to yield on this. Still, she felt like she had to throw her some kind of bone. “Tell you what, if you’re good, I’ll take you with me on my other errands this afternoon, okay?”

The other woman seemed mollified by the offer, and Fallon nodded. “Good. I’ll see you when I get back.”

* * *

Fallon pulled up in front of the manor, not bothering to pull her car into the huge garage at the end of the drive. Her heel briefly got stuck in the thick carpet under the brake pedal, and she had to pull at her foot several times to free it as she got out of the car, flustered and the beginnings of a headache starting to set in. The meeting with the party planner had been even more excruciating than she’d imagined, the woman interrogating her about fabric finishes and berating her about how the light would impact the look of the tablecloths until she was nearly ready to stuff a linen napkin in her mouth just to shut her up. 

They’d finally agreed to go with the ecru, with aubergine, russet, and gold accents. Fallon had slipped her a few hundreds on her way out with the stipulation that she was not to call her for the rest of the day. 

As she stomped her way up to the manor door, her blazer looped over her arm and her silk blouse sticking uncomfortably to the small of her back, she prayed that Kirby had managed to at least get the decorations done. 

As she turned her key in the lock, she nearly dropped her blazer, mouth agape as she took in the absolute travesty in front of her. 

Fallon’s idea of fall decor meant bronze and gold with flashes of auburn; tasteful leaf accents; _ maybe _the occasional pumpkin. Kirby’s idea of fall decor clearly meant something more like letting the nearest discount store vomit profusely all over the house.

She was standing under an enormous orange balloon arch, but Kirby had clearly run out of balloons halfway and had to go get more, because there were bare spots and some of the balloons were differing shades of orange. Garish orange and purple streamers festooned the foyer, twining around the wrought iron banisters along with flashing orange fairy lights. Large, glittery bats dangled from the chandelier - Fallon had no idea how Kirby had managed to even reach that - and a motion activated witch stirred a cauldron and cackled in the corner. Fallon looked down, surprised to notice that she couldn’t see her feet - a fog machine hummed in another corner, blanketing the floor with thick, smelly grey smoke. 

It was… so much worse than anything she could’ve imagined. 

She was so busy taking it all in and deciding what to make of it that she didn’t even hear Kirby creep up behind her until a fake spider was dancing in her face. She swatted it away, turning to face her. 

“Boo!”

_ “Kirby,” _ Fallon hissed. “What… _ is… _all this?”

Kirby lowered the spider, her mirthful expression immediately shifting to one of uncertainty. “You-- you said to decorate--” She trailed off, tucking the spider into her pocket and crossing her arms defensively. The jack o’lantern peered over her arms, making it feel like it was staring at Fallon.

Fallon sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Yes. Yes, I did say that. But, Kirby, this is a _ dinner _ party, not-- this isn’t--” She paused, searching for the right words. As frustrated as she was, she couldn’t bring herself to snap at the girl like she desperately wanted to. “This is not quite what I had in mind,” she finished lamely. “You did a great job, but…”

“No, I get it,” Kirby said quietly, staring at the smoky floor. “You don’t like it.”

Her voice was so unexpectedly childlike that Fallon was surprised to feel a pang in her chest. 

“No, no,” she backpedaled. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d tried to make someone feel better, and the words weren’t coming very easily. “I-- I actually love it. Really. But Blake will be so pissed at me if I don’t pull everything off perfectly. I should’ve been clearer.” She cleared her throat, but her next words came out raspy anyway, as though they were ragged from years of disuse. “I’m sorry.”

Kirby looked up at her then, a faint sadness still present in her eyes, and Fallon immediately felt even worse. 

“Look, we can go run the rest of my errands and Martha and Rebecca will move everything to the east wing, okay? You can turn the whole thing into a haunted house if you want. I’ll even help you.” She winced slightly, hoping she wouldn’t have to make good on that particular promise. She really did hate decorating, and some of the stuff Kirby had put out was kind of creepy. 

“Fine,” Kirby replied. She uncrossed her arms and Fallon immediately felt a small wave of relief. “What kind of errands do you have to run, anyway?”

Fallon groaned. “The party planner gave me a list. I need ‘seasonally appropriate gourds’ and ‘rustic wood slices’ for the centerpieces. She told me to get a hay bale, too, but there’s no way in hell I’m bringing a cube of rotting grass into this house.”

Kirby had clearly stopped listening, because there was a playful glint in her eye. “Where are we going to get all of that?”

“I don’t know, Whole Foods? I’m not exactly a gourd expert.”

“Anything you get there will be tiny and overpriced,” Kirby sniffed. “I have a better idea.”

Fallon raised an eyebrow. “And what might that be?”

* * *

An hour later, Fallon was scowling as she stomped along behind Kirby in a dusty field. Whole Foods would’ve been far preferable to some random pumpkin patch all the way in the outskirts of Dekalb County. Her heels were sinking in the grass - they’d be ruined after all this. 

Kirby flitted along ahead of her, still wearing her sweatshirt and seemingly oblivious to the heat. She finally stopped at a small barn that was labelled as an office - Fallon rolled her eyes when she saw the sign - and waited, bouncing on the balls of her feet, for Fallon to catch up to her. 

“I cannot _ believe _ I let you talk me into this,” she complained, pushing her sunglasses up on her nose. 

“It’ll be _ fun,” _Kirby wheedled. “You’ve been in a bad mood all week. I know you hate party planning. I don’t really like being alone in the house. We both deserve a break.”

“You aren’t _ alone _ in the house,” Fallon muttered, feeling a little bit defensive. “And aren’t we a little old for this?” 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize fun had an age limit.”

Fallon sighed. “Fine. One hour.”

Kirby seemed to spot something that piqued her interest, because before Fallon knew it, she was grabbing her wrist and pulling her toward another small building. She yanked away and followed her of her own accord, but not before a surprising amount of goosebumps raised on her skin where the other woman had touched her. Fallon rubbed them away with the heel of her hand, trying to put them out of her mind. 

Kirby stopped in front of an old pallet that had been mounted on a stake. It read “HAYRIDES” in misshapen letters. The wood was weathered and the paint was starting to peel. Fallon reached out and tugged a fleck of paint off of the ‘h’ before it fully registered with her what the sign said. 

“Oh, hell no.”

“Why not?" 

“Kirby, I agreed to come to a pumpkin patch; at _ no _ point did I say I would do any activities. If I don’t want to bring a bale of hay into my house, what makes you think I want to climb into a giant wagon full of it?”

“It’ll be a good story?”

“These are Gucci pants,” Fallon protested, but she was starting to sense that she was losing the battle. 

“Last year’s,” Kirby shot back. Fallon couldn’t help but be a little impressed that she knew that. “And those Louboutins have seen better days, too, so don’t even go there.” She paused, carefully schooling her features back into the crestfallen expression that had made Fallon so uncomfortable earlier. “And I worked really hard decorating and you didn’t even like it, so you owe me.”

Fallon groaned. “One hayride. That’s it. Then we’re even.” 

Kirby literally clapped her hands and the sadness left her face. Fallon briefly wondered if she might’ve taken up acting while she’d been back in Australia.

An ancient tractor rumbled up beside the sign, stirring up dust that immediately clung to Fallon’s clothing. A bunch of kids scrambled out - some kind of field trip or something - and their sticky faces and hands made Fallon even less enthusiastic about crawling into the hay than she’d been before.

There was no one else in line, but the grizzled old farmer motioned for them to climb in anyway. Kirby, with her tall stature and long legs, lifted herself into the bed of the tractor with ease. Fallon tossed her wristlet into the hay and set about hauling herself in beside her. She was shorter than Kirby, and not nearly as graceful - her foot slipped and she tumbled in, falling into the redhead’s lap on the way down.

She immediately flushed red, though she wasn’t entirely sure why. The awkward position she’d landed in made it hard for her to sit up, and Kirby had to put a hand on her shoulder and push her upright. She shrugged away from her touch as soon as she was situated, grabbing her wristlet from the pile of hay as the tractor started to slowly inch away from the makeshift station.

Kirby was beaming, clearly overjoyed at having gotten her way. Fallon noticed how the afternoon light danced on her hair and seemed to make it nearly glow, then shook her head and kicked herself for even noticing that at all. She had been annoyed by Kirby’s constant presence - at least she thought she had. But spending time with her wasn’t entirely unpleasant, even when it did involve bouncing around a bed of dirty hay. She was starting to notice a humming ball of nerves in the pit of her stomach whenever she was around her; feelings that were new and which she couldn’t begin to make sense of. 

Fallon was so lost in her thoughts that she jumped when Kirby’s fingers laced into her hair. 

“Sorry,” she muttered. “You have hay in your hair, I was getting it out.”

“It’s fine,” Fallon said tersely. “Um, thank you.”

“Welcome,” Kirby murmured. She was eyeing her curiously, trying to figure her out, but Fallon shook her head and pointed across the field to distract her. 

“Look, cows.”

Kirby turned to look, then leaned over the side of the tractor to take a picture of the cows. She chattered happily for the rest of the ride, occasionally pointing out other animals, but Fallon couldn’t engage more than the occasional, cursory “mhm”. 

When the tractor finally wheezed to a stop, Kirby climbed out first, then offered Fallon her hand to help her get out. Fallon eyed it warily, all too aware of the reaction she’d had the last time the redhead had touched her, but finally gave in - she really couldn’t get out by herself. 

Kirby eased her down from the bed of the tractor, her hand lingering on Fallon’s elbow for a moment after she’d already regained her footing. Fallon gave her a sharp glance, and she flushed and dropped her hand. 

Fallon cleared her throat, eager for the awkwardness that had settled between them to dissipate. “Let’s go get the gourds. And you can pick a pumpkin for the front porch.”

Kirby was still curious about the sudden shift in Fallon’s demeanor, but she nodded. “Two pumpkins.”

“Fine. Two.”

* * *

Kirby’s unbridled enthusiasm made it easier to fall back into their regular banter than Fallon had been anticipating. She carefully selected the various gourds on Fallon’s list, taking care to pick a couple that were extremely ugly, explaining to Fallon that she worried no one else would buy them. Fallon allowed it, but made a mental note to put those particular gourds in the backup centerpieces. 

It wasn’t long before all of the gourds were boxed and waiting for them at a picnic table. 

“All we need now are the pumpkins!” Kirby exclaimed, arms extended wide. She had a few flecks of hay in her long hair, and Fallon couldn’t help but smile. The afternoon had cooled off considerably, and the sun was starting to sink just a little in the sky. 

“Remember, you only get two,” she teased, ambling along beside Kirby to the pumpkin patch. Kirby had a hold of her arm again, but this time, Fallon hadn’t bothered to pull away. She was starting to realize that she did like being near her. She’d sort the rest of the feelings out later. 

Kirby rolled her eyes. “Yes, Mum, I know.” 

Fallon blushed at the comment and hoped Kirby didn’t notice.

Kirby ground to a halt in front of the largest pumpkin Fallon had ever seen in her life. It rose nearly to their hips, just as wide as it was tall. Kirby nodded approvingly and slapped the top of the pumpkin like a used-car salesman. “I want this one.”

“That one is almost as big as you are,” Fallon protested. “You could probably fit in that thing.”

Kirby’s eyes lit up. “Do you really think so?”

“That was not a challenge nor an invitation. Besides, there’s no way it'll fit in my car.”

“You said I could have two pumpkins,” Kirby said stubbornly, crossing her arms. “I want this one.”

“How do you think we’ll get that home? We probably can’t even lift it.”

Kirby shrugged. “Figure it out.”

“No. Go pick out two that we can actually carry.”

Kirby pouted for a moment, then slunk away, cursing under her breath, when she realized Fallon wasn’t going to budge on this one. Fallon waited until her back was turned, then motioned the farmer over and slipped him a handful of bills. 

The pumpkin would be delivered by the next afternoon. Fallon couldn’t wait to see Kirby’s face when it arrived.

Maybe fall wasn’t so bad, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Sarah for beta reading :)


End file.
